The Last Hunter: Pursuit by Jeremy Robinson

Author:Jeremy Robinson [Robinson, Jeremy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantástico
ISBN: 9780012476628
Publisher: BernyBenuyas
Published: 2011-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

20

The next hour is surreal as I give myself a tour of the place I where was born. But he’s not me. Not really. Even though he is identical to me at six years old.

Identical.

Even his pure blond, unbroken hair. But he does not share my memories, and only some of my personality. I bring none of this up, because he is beyond excited to meet me and is leading me around by the hand, pointing out Tobias’s room (my parents’ room), Em’s room (the Clarks’ room) and his bedroom (my bedroom). He even sleeps in the makeshift crib—a cot with slabs of wood nailed around the sides to keep me from rolling out—that my father and Dr. Clark made for me. I look at its metal and wooden frame, now sporting a mattress of feeder skins, and look up. There is more rust on the ceiling than I remember, but it is still the same place.

I feel instantly at home and the smile on my face is genuine.

But I cannot stop thinking about the little me holding my hand. How is he possible? Why is he here? Is he really my brother?

I feel sick to my stomach with the thought I maybe I had a twin who was taken at birth and maybe he’s only six because he lived underground all this time?

The questions don’t stop coming, so when the tour finishes in the living room I think I might get a chance to speak to Tobias in private. But Luca has other plans. He props himself up on my—his—bed. His little legs dangle over the side.

“Will I look like you when I’m older?” he asks.

The answer to that question is simple. Yes. You’ll look exactly like me when you’re older, but I don’t think he knows the truth. He can see that we look alike, but he doesn’t recognize his older face the way I do my younger. So I stick to the story. “Brothers often do. Some even look like twins.”

“I wish we were twins,” he says with a grin.

The kid has just met me, but I can see in his eyes that he’s already idolizing me. It makes me uncomfortable and I can’t help but wonder how much he’s been told about me. And how much of it is true. “Why?” I ask.

“Because you’re so big.”

That’s the first time in my life someone has called me big, and I almost argue, but let it go because most teenagers are big in comparison to a six year old boy. “That’s it?”

He thinks for a moment and then his eyes go wide. He jumps down from the bed and fishes out a cardboard box from underneath it. Inside are several drawings on water damaged sheets of paper and five very worn crayons. I wonder what will happen when he runs out of crayons? Or paper. It will be a sad day for him.

He shoves a piece of paper in my face. On it is a small boy. And a very tall man.

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